


The Fox & The Wolf

by artemisc



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-01-24 07:50:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18567058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artemisc/pseuds/artemisc
Summary: Pride as a price and (y/n)'s father had paid with his life when he refused to bow to Bolton's bastard.Running from Ramsey, (y/n) set on a trip to rally the North bannermen against the Bolton's tyranny, unaware that Jon Snow had started to march south with the same goal.Winter may come, but passion keeps wolves and foxes warm.





	1. The Fox

I was awakened by a snowflake felling on my cheek. My eyes opened and I saw dark clouds through the cracked wooden roof. The sun was already high, but the weather darkened the sky, tricking my exhausted body to sleep a little bit more. 

I couldn't afford to sleep, though. I quickly sat, my back and neck stiffened by the night on the hard floor. We had found the little house after two days of running in the woods. Abandoned and full of holes, it was a welcome upgrade from the cold and snow. The two stories building could be easily defended so we decided to spend the night there, taking turns to sleep. I missed Hearthgrove and the comfy bed I was used to sleep on, I missed the fire always roaming in the chimneys. But more than everything, I missed my family. 

The sound of a sword leaving its sheath startled me. As quietly as I could, I put my coat around my shoulders and proceed to climb down the ladder. The small knife I kept around her waist suddenly felt heavier. I didn't had to used it for now, and I wasn't even sure if I would be able to do it. Bitting my lips, I took another step down, crooking my head to see what was happening at the first floor.

Jarden was in the doorway, his sword in one hand, a sharpener in the other. I sighed in relief.

"I thought it was the Boltons," I whispered, finally reaching the ground.

The guard shook his head and lift his sword in front of him. It was a large weapon, matching his impressive frame. Jarden had been my bodyguard for all my life. When Ramsey ordered his men to kill everyone, he was the one who helped me escaped. 

Footsteps outside made us turn our heads. Elayne walked through the edge of the wood, her bow on her shoulder and three dead squirrels hanging on her belt. She detached the animals and placed them against Jarden's chest. 

"Breakfast. Don't mess this up."

And with that, she headed straight to the ladder. Jarden and I exchanged a look, but none of us could blame her. She was up the longest since we left. It helped her coped with her loss, she had said. Her son was caught in the fire when Hearthgrove fell. 

"I'll gather wood for the fire," I said when Jarden took out his knife to skin the squirrels. 

An hour passed, maybe two, before everything was ready to eat. We founded an old cauldron in what would have been the kitchen. We used it to melt snow for us to drink. Jarden had skillfully prepared the squirrel and they were slowly roasting on sticks. My stomach was growling at the smell of the meat on the fire. Elayne should have smell it too and she joined us just when it was cooked. 

We ate in silence, our ears focused on the outside. No sound had been heard since yesterday, though, and I slowly let my guard down. 

"So, what's the plan?"

Elayne was looking at me, her eyes shining with the fire's light.

"Go to Deepwood Motte. Then to Bear Island. Then to Greywater Watch. I don't believe the Bolton have seduced everyone in the North. We have to find the ones who can fight with us."

Jarden kept looking at the fire, but Elayne moved her lips to the side, unconvinced. 

"How will you do it?"

"By reminding them that the North belongs to the Starks."

The huntress laughed a little. "You're no Stark."

"Neither are the Boltons." I kept a straight face, my eyes locked on Elayne's. "I would rather die than to let those bastards keep our home."

These were my father last words to me. He died, indeed, but I didn't intend to follow him yet. I needed to avenge him and mother. I needed to make them pay for what they did. 

"You can't fight, you can't hunt, you can't even skin a small squirrel. Forget it, m'lady. We better hide and live."

"My father died fighting the Bolton! I won't hide!" 

I took the knife from my belt out and looked at it. On the pommel, there was a standing fox baring his fangs. My house sigil. Our motto was engraved on the sheath. 

"Honor prevails," I read out loud. From his seat, Jarden smiled and noded. "As Lady Stormfeld, I will follow these words to my grave."

Elayne puckered her lips before sighing. "Guess those bastards won't see it coming."

I smiled a little and bite in the roasted squirrel.


	2. Bear Island

We decided to go to Bear Island first. With Hearthgrove at the northwest of the Wolfswood, it was easy to get there. The Mormonts have been friends with my family for many generations, so I was sure Lyanna would accept our small party on her lands. I wasn't sure if she would accept to join me against the Boltons though. 

"Why don't we go to your uncle first?" asked Elayne once I told her the plan. 

"Because it's where Ramsey will try to find us, if he knows about my mother."

"Why would he bother to look for us?"

Because I am still alive, I wanted to say, but her question made its way to my thoughts. Maybe she was right, maybe he wouldn't care if I was alive or dead... Yet I didn't want to play our lives on maybes. 

During our escape, I was lucky enough to have my purse on me. We used the money to buy three horses for and a piece of bread from a village a day from our first safe-house. Elayne suggested to sell my dress but I refused. The Stormfeld sigil was embroidered on the heart and I didn't want anyone to get in trouble because of this. My mother embroidered it herself as a birthday gift too, and I didn't want to lose the last thing I had from her. Even if it meant I had to starve to death. 

By the time we arrived at the shore, the dress had lost its vibrant blue to the mud. My hair, usually nicely done up, seemed more like stray than hair and I could feel a layer of dirt on every inch of my skin. Even without my heavy coat, nobody could have recognized me. 

With the last coins, we brought passage to the island from a fisherman. With the air colder with each passing day, the trip on the small bark was not pleasant. I dreamed of a bed near a fireplace while Bear Island grew bigger and bigger. 

It wasn't hard to find the castle but it was a challenge to enter. I had to pass my knife to a guard for Lady Mormont to verify. Once that was done, the large wooden doors opened. Lyanna herself greeted us at the center of the small but sturdy looking court. I bowed my head to her. 

"Thank you for letting us see you, Lady Mormont."

She studied us with her signature cold gaze and I couldn't help but froze under her inspection. The little I once knew was no more. I wondered if she had forgotten me and the games we used to play. Now that we were face to face, this seemed like ages ago. 

"No wonder they didn't let you enter," she finally said, her eyes locking with mine and a smile on her lips. "You need a bath. And a new set of clothes." 

She gestured the servants to take us away. We gladly followed them. I don't remember well this part of our journey. I was too tired, too relieved to take notice of what was happening. I think I fell asleep in the warm water. 

Once I was ready, a girl told me Lyanna was waiting for me in the dining hall. My stomach grumbled at the mention of dining and I obediently found my way to the young lady. 

I could hear the roaming of a fire on my way there, and a faint odour of meat was feeling my nose. Lyanna was sitting at the end of the wooden table. A set of cutlery had been set at her right side. 

"I'm afraid we're lacking dresses your size," she said when I entered the room. 

"I think this fits me better."

I was given leather pants and a white fur blouse. At first, I thought it was man outfit, but the cut was definitely feminine and it flattered my silhouette more than any dress I wore before. 

I sat beside Lyanna. The food was simple but most welcomed. The bread was still fuming and the chicken and potatoes looked liked a fancy king banquet for me. 

"Where are my men?" I asked with water in my mouth. 

"In the kitchen. They are being fed too."

I smiled to my host then happily attacked the poultry. She looked at me, first, silently, probably judging my lack of manners. I was too famished to care though. While a took a bite from a potato, she spoke. 

"I learned what happened to Hearthgrove." 

I stopped chewing. Her voice was equal, without sympathy nor threat. I took a sip of beer to help me gulp down the vegetable. 

"If you have heard of it, you must know why I am here."

"I only see two possibilities: either to hide or to fight. And if I'm guessing right, it's the second one."

I smiled at the young Lady. "You're too wise for your age."

"Wise enough to not follow you in your revenge."

So it was going to be the difficult way. I had hoped our friendship was enough to have her and her men follow me to retake the North from the Boltons, but I could see plenty of reasons why she wouldn't want to. 

"Why?" I still asked. 

"Why would I want to sacrifice my men for a war that doesn't concern me nor them?"

"Because the North doesn't belong to the Boltons. If we don't act, our snowy fields will only be as red as the blood they spill."

"And who would you see ruling the North?"

"The Starks. Or at least someone in their place while they come back."

"The Starks are gone, defeated by the southern kings. Let the Boltons have their piece of land for a while. Bear Island will stay out of this."

"Sansa Stark still have a claim to Winterfell."

"As what? Lady Lannister or Lady Bolton?"

"She married Roose?" I never heard of this. I knew for Tyrion, but her disappearance had me hope for her return. I couldn't believe it would have been like this. 

"No it was Ramsay! How long have been on the run?"

I looked away, my cheeks burning. "Two to three days... Gary was the one who took care of politics."

A silence fell on the room, only interrupted by the wind howling through the windows and the logs cracking in the fireplace. I knew she was waiting for details. I took a deep breath, I told everything. 

How my family made a good living with a ruby mine, even though she knew this. How I was kept from any politics since the war of the five kings started, how I decided to focus on raising and training animals. And then how Ramsay came to Hearthgove just few days ago, stating he was tired of his crows being ignored. 

When he asked Father to bend the knee, Father refused. Two of his son had died for Robb Stark, he had said. He would die for a Stark only. Ramsay obliged slighting his throat. When Mother stayed true to her husband words, Ramsay slained her as well. Garry tried to avenge them, but the Boltons’ men were faster. I was in the kennel then, and Jarden forced me to hide behind a fence. When Ramsay ordered to put Hearthgrove on fire, we fled thanks to a hole behind the mill we didn’t had time to repair yet. Elayne found us after a few hours. 

I talk for a long time and Lyanna listened silently, her eyes not leaving my features even once. I felt like I was the child there, confiding in her like this. When I finished my story, her gaze shifted to the dying fire.

“You weren’t born to be the Lady of Hearthgrove and yet, here you are. You have a lot to learn. I’ll lend you our maester. He is strict, but he his a good man. Learn from him as much as you can.”

Before I could thank her, she called him to the dining room. She quickly explained the situation to the old man and left us behind. 

The maester had a grave face, fitting the Lady’s. He put his hands on the back of the chair in front of you. 

“So. What will this Lady learn?”


	3. The Wolf

He came two days after me, followed by few soldiers and a beautiful maiden with hair as red as fire. I was with the maester when they were announced as Jon Snow and Sansa Stark. I had been taught a lot in two days, enough to know that Jon Snow was not a simple bastard anymore. 

To my surprise, Lyanna asked me to join her in the great hall to welcome her guests. I stood at her side as Jon and Sansa walked in. 

It was like seeing a replay of my plead to Lady Mormont. They asked her to join their fight and she replied the same as to me: this didn't concern Bear Island.

When Sansa defended her choice of marrying Tyrion and Ramsay, I couldn't help but pledge in her favor. 

"Wouldn't you do the same if it meant securing Bear Island?" I asked our host. "I know I would."

Lyanna glared at me, probably judging me for my gullibility. I kept my composure but tried to be silent for the rest of the meeting. They were asking her help, not mine. 

It took their general mentioning of White Walkers to start changing  Lyanna's mind. I could feel her hesitancy, and I knew both of us had the same question in mind. I was the one who dared to ask. 

"Are they real?" 

Jon eyes locked on mine. "I saw and fought them myself. They are."

He was sincere, or a really good liar. But I knew his and his father's reputation. They were honourable men and I believed every word he said. After that, Lyanna had no other choice than follow him. I stayed silent though.

They decided to spent the night, giving time to Lyanna's men to prepare and to themselves to rest. Night fell quickly and when the maester sent me back, I decided to walk to the stables. Being near animals helped me think from as long as I can remember and I could use a little time alone. 

As I passed the doorway, I noticed Jon Snow, looking toward a seemingly empty stale. I stepped on a dry straw and the cracking noise made him turn to face me. 

"Lord Commander..."

His stern look seemed to ease when he realized I wasn't a threat. He shifted his gaze to the stale again. "I'm not Lord Commander anymore."

"My Lord, then, " I replied, slowly approaching him. 

"No Lord, either."

I finally stood beside him, looking at what he was looking for. A giant wolf, with pristine white fur and red eyes sat on there. I couldn't see him from the door but now, he took my breath away. The direwolf looked back at me, his head tilted to the right. 

"How should I call you?" 

For a second, I completely forgot the man on my left and our discussion. I was asking the direwolf with a tender voice, trying to coax him. It was when Jon Snow turned and his shoulders brushed mine than I remembered where I was. I could feel my cheeks burning while my eyes went from the man to the wolf and to the ground. 

"You can call me Jon," he said before I could apologize. "And this is Ghost."

As ashamed as I was, I couldn't help but be drawn to Ghost. I approached my ungloved hand, palm up, and waited for him to make a move. It wasn't long before he licked my fingers playfully. His tongue was larger than my wrist. No doubt that if he wanted to bite me, I would lose the whole hand. He seemed friendly though, and I knew I was better at reading animals than people. I stroke Ghost head, smiling from ear to ear.  Jon cleared his throat. 

"How may I call you?" He mimicked my question, emphasizing his "I". 

"Oh, sorry." I gave a last scratch to Ghost's ear and faced the man. "My name is (Y/N) Stormfeld." I bowed my head. 

"Lady Stormfeld? Of Hearthgrove?"

"I'm afraid I'm more Lady of ashes than of anything else..." I said, biting my lips. 

He didn't had to ask to understand and muttered a small "I'm sorry". Silence fell upon us, but as much as my heart ached from the lost, his quietness was soothing. We stood there, eyes on the direwolf, our arms brushing sometimes as we breathed. Ghost touched my hand with his nose, asking for more attention. I caressed his neck and he closed his eyes. 

"I have to say I'm impressed," Jon said. "He usually isn't the cuddly type, even with me."

I smiled. "I believe every animal is cuddly. You just have to find their sweet spot."

Realizing I was lecturing my liege's brother about his own pet, my cheeks went on fire again. 

"I didn't mean..."

He lifted his hand to stop me. "Don't worry. You sounds like you have experience."

"I'm in charge of the kennel, back at home... Was in charge..."

My vision blurred but I refused to cry in front of a stranger. I took a deep breath, steadied my hands and changes the subject. 

"Where are you going next?"

"Deepwood Motte. I believe we can convince Lord Glover to join us."

"Allow me to come with you. Robbett Glover is my uncle." 

I wasn't really close to my uncle, but maybe I could help the Starks gain few allies. From what I had learned from the maester, I wasn't sure he would obediently follow Jon and his men. 

"We are going to war, you know." He turned his head toward me. 

I wondered if it was worry or disbelief, but his eyebrows were curved and his lips pressed together. He was an handsome man, even with this kind of expression and I couldn’t help but blush a little. 

"Thanks for your concern, but I am a capable woman. And you’ll need me to convince Uncle Robbett.”

Jon sighed. “Alright. We’re leaving at dawn. Bring only what you can’t live without.”

I kneeled in front of Ghost, touching his forehead with mine and fondling the soft spot behind his ears. 

“I guess we’ll spend more time together, big boy!”

When I rose, Jon as a small grin, almost unnoticeable. I bowed my head to him. 

“Have a good night, Jon.”

He nodded and his eyes followed me as I made my way out. Before leaving the stables, I turned once more to register the man in black’s face. Our eyes met and he looked away. 

For my part, I was smiling. A Stark was alive and well, the North would not fall into the hands of a killer. Jon had this quiet charisma which could make any man follow him. I had lost everything, but I pledge to the Father that I wouldn’t rest until justice was served. And I’d found my highest chance to do it.


	4. The Wolfwoods

The sun was still hidden behind the tree-line when we departed. The group was small enough to not draw attention but with enough people to defend ourselves. We'd heard the Boltons' men were at the shore between Bear Island and Deepwood Motte. Because of this, a on day journey turned into a two full days one, going through the Wolfswood from a point between the Sea Dragon Point and the Stony Shore. 

At my right, Jarden rode with a full armor set. At my left, Elayne was still mumbling something. She started complaining as soon as I told her my decision. I could understand her. We were the only left from Hearthgrove and going to the one who slaughtered the others seemed, at best, rushed. 

As I pondered this thought, my eyes found Jon's back, not so far ahead. Last night I blurted I was capable. Now that I marched with him, with a force of only one personal guard and an huntress, I felt like more a burden than anything else. 

"You're staring," said Lyanna, whose horse had taken Jarden's place. 

"I'm not."

"Good, then. We have no time for this kind of thing. It's a war, not a ball."

After that, we rode in silence for the rest of the day. We stopped to eat when the sun was at its zenith, but there was no rest until the late afternoon. 

We settled in the middle of the woods. Some planted tents between the trees, others started fire to sleep next to. There was an hour of sun left when we were done. Fidgeting with a bow I got from one of Lyanna's soldiers, I considered who to ask for training. Elayne seemed focused on something I couldn't see and I didn't want to bother her. Jarden was more an swordsman and proved multiple times to have a poor aim. Garry would have been the best choice. He was the best archer in Hearthgrove. Turning my back to the group, I prayed for him to send me a small portion of his talent from the Seven Heavens and went deeper in the forest. 

Ghost followed me silently and when I stopped, having found the perfect tree for target practice, he sat nearby, watching my every move with his ruby eyes. I only had three arrows but that was enough to train. 

... It seemed so easy when Garry or Elayne did it, but I couldn't manage to plant a single arrow in the damn tree. In fact, each projectile kept going down as soon as I released the bow string. So instead of retrieving my arrows from my target, I picked them few meters from my original position, from the ground. Ghost was now laying, his head between his large paws. He whined when I readied my bow again and grunted when I missed once again. 

"I would like to see you try!" I playfully scolded him with a smile. 

Tired of my pathetic training, I planted my weapon near the direwolf. 

"I believe you'd be better than me..."

Ghost lifted his head and turned it to the wood. I followed his eyes and met Jon's silhouette, leaning against a tree. He seemed to have been there for a moment, now. 

"Keep practicing," he said, pointing the bow with his chin.

His tone is soft yet commanding. I obliged with a node. I raised the bow in front of me. 

"Higher."

I lifted it a few inches more, my eyes on Jon approaching me. He took my wrist and raised it till it was aligned with my nose. Locking his eyes with mine, he pressed a little more before letting it go. 

"Higher."

He turned around me, looking at my legs and my arms. His hands found my shoulders and I stiffed at the touch. 

"Relax your bow arm," he said, his fingers sliding on the said arm. 

His proximity didn’t help the task. When he took my hand to adjust my fingers around the arrow, my cheeks went on fire, but he didn’t seem to notice. He continued to correct my position, one hand moving my elbow, the other on my hips to keep me from moving. 

“Release.”

I took a deep breath, focused on the target and shoot. The arrow went directly to the tree. It was lower than where I was aiming, but it was definitely an improvement. I turned towards my tutor with a large smile. For his part, the corners of his lips were slightly turned up. 

“Thank you,” I whispered. 

Jon looked at my victim and back at me. He was close enough for me to detail him. Beside the scar on his temple, few others sprinkled his face, on the forehead or around his lips. I wondered if the rest of his body displayed souvenirs of his past battles, won or lost. My eyes drifted down, following the pattern of his leather armor, patched here and there from what I assumed were sword’s blows. There were so many of them. I lifted my hand to follow the one right under the heart. 

Before I could touch the leather, Ghost growled toward the trees. The forest was dark now and we couldn’t see far. The brushes were definitely moving though and we could hear something moving towards us. Jon placed himself between me and the sound, his sword unsheathed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers! 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Quick question for you! Would you like to have a Jon’s POV one day? Let me know in the comments!
> 
> Love upon you all!


	5. War Dogs

Darkness was now engulfing us, and the thing that was ruffling in the surrounding forest sounded closer and closer. Ramsay's men must had found us. One of my shaking hands grabbed Jon's black coat, the other took my dagger out. 

A second sound came from the right, another from behind us made me jump closer to Jon. We were surrounded. Back to back, weapons facing the darkness, we waited for our aggressors to move. 

From the bush in front of me, a young dog appeared, one I could recognize between thousands. 

"Cobweb!"

The black and white pup jumped on my lap as I kneeled to take him in my arms. At the same time, four other dogs came out of the darkness,  and run to me, happily barking. Jon looked at me with a puzzled expression as my face got licked by Cobweb.

"Jon, I would like to present you the first, and second, generations of Heartgrove's war dogs."

I didn't notice my tears until I let Cobweb down. The pack missed several members, including the pup's mother, but Maurl, the red alpha, was still there. Fresh blood was dripping from his mouth. They must had eaten recently. I pat each head, a large smile on my face, happy to have a part of Hearthgrove back. Jon was standing a meter away, dumbfounded. 

"Since when do the Stormfeld have war dogs?" He asked. 

"They were Toma's hounds, before."

I bite my lips. This was the story of another loss and I didn't want to taint my reunion with reminiscing my oldest brother. Jon should have known him. As Hearthgrove's heir, Toma had spent some time at Winterfell where he befriended Robb Stark, so much that he was near the king during the Red Wedding. Jon might have sense my uneasiness as he didn't ask for further explanation. Instead, he shifted his attention to the dogs. 

"Are they good?"

"The best in the North," I replied, proud of my little pack. 

My eyes caught the glimpse of red hair before Sansa arrive at ear range. 

"Do you starve them to make them obey you?"

Her voice was icy as the wind. She glared at me while staying at a safe distance from my dogs. I knew that it was a practice, more common than I wanted to know, but that she could imagine I would use it hurt me. 

"A starving animal is only a wild beast. You don't tame anything on an empty stomach," I said, eyebrows frowned and eyes locked with hers. 

Sansa pondered my statement for a moment before a smirk appeared on her lips. She then turned towards Jon. "Ser Davos was looking for you."

The once Lord Commander nodded. For a split second, I didn't want him to go. I wanted to know more about him, about his desires, his fears. I wanted to be able to sooth his worries, to support his beliefs. But he was the commander of an upcoming war and I was a destitute noble woman with no power to bring to the table. So when he bid me farewell with a quiet "My Lady", I watched him go in silence.


	6. Deepwood Motte

We arrived at Deepwood Motte well before the sun was at his highest point. As they did at Bear Island, Jon and Sansa asked for an audience. Unlike Lyanna, Uncle Robett didn't open his door. Instead, he received us on the bailey, which earned him a glare from the young bear. He didn't seem to notice, though, as his eyes opened wide when he saw me. 

"(Y/N) ! You're safe!"

He grabbed my arms and pulled me in a hug. At my own surprise, I burrowed my face on his shoulder, eyes closed. As estranged as we were, Uncle Robett was now the only family I had left... I refrained a tear before backing off. 

"As safe as I can be with, with the Bolton roaming free." 

His eyes went from me to the Starks, frowning as he made the connexion between my presence and theirs. I took a few steps back to be closer to them than him. 

Jon and Sansa tried to convince the Lord of Deepwood Motte to join their cause against Ramsay and, after that, against the dead. However, he refused to hear reason. I had a hunch he would, Mother always told me he did not easily forgive. She also said his pride was unmatched in the Seven Kingdoms. 

"You're a coward, Uncle," I finally blurted quieter than I wanted. 

There were whispers in the small crowd around us. Uncle Robett slowly turned to face me and crossed his arms, chin up and one eyebrow lifted. 

"You're a coward," I repeated more clearly. "But do you know who wasn't? Your sister." 

I took a second to compose myself before going on. I now had the full attention of the assembly . "When Ramsay put a sword in her husband's heart, she didn't run nor hide. She took a knife and fought back. She was a true Northerner and she died as she lived: free from the Bolton's tyranny."

"Those tyrants, as you say, helped us take back our home. Where were the Starks when the Ironborns invaded Deepwood Motte?"

"Fighting for the North," Sansa replied coldly. 

"You mean fornicating with foreign whores."

I could sense Jon's anger even without seeing him. I had to do something before everyone jumped to each other throat. 

"Tell me Uncle, was it Jon Snow who slept with the foreigner? Or was it Sansa? And did Ramsay Snow actually helped you take your home back?" He didn't reply and I turned to the audience. "My point is Robb Stark fell in love, Roose Bolton helped Deepwood Motte. Now they are both dead and we are left with two men to chose from. One is fighting the threat of all humanity. The other has slaughtered my father and mother before my eyes. I know who I'll follow."

"Honor prevails." 

The man who spoke stepped forward, his sword unsheathed. He planted the weapon in front of me. I didn't recognized him among the others, but now that I could see him up close, he was one of my father's banner-man. Another repeated my family motto and joined the first. Soon enough, about ten men, all from Hearthgrove, had come to me. I had no idea how they managed to get here, but I was so happy they did it I couldn't stop smiling.

"Fine! I'll join." Uncle Robett spat when the last one joined us.  He passed by me and went directly in front of Sansa and Jon. "But I am not doing it for you."

In a swirl of fur, he was gone. My eyes briefly met Jon's as he nodded to me. We had found new allies, the war for Winterfell seemed a little more winnable. Hearthgrove didn’t fell entirely and I was hopeful others had survived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late, guys! I was trying not to die after what they did to season 8... I’m currently writing a fix-it fic to try to improve this mess, so here may slow a little.


	7. Jon I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff and Angst incoming! :)

He rode in the front line, with Sansa on his right and Tormund on his left. While his eyes where focused on the road, his mind was behind, where Lady Stormfeld was. He had been thinking about her for a while, now, as soon as she pet Ghost without fear. A little more since she tried to learn to shoot by herself. He couldn't help but be drawn to her, wondering each time he saw her how she could surprise him even more. 

Speaking of the fox, she had made her way to the front, between him and Sansa, at his sister demand. 

"Tell me," started the red-haired Stark, "how is Heathgrove? I don't think I had the opportunity to visit."

"It's not much. My mother used to call it a pile of stones in the middle of nowhere. A keep, three towers and a mine. Nothing like Winterfell."

"I remember you came. You had a pet rabbit, then. Arya couldn't leave it alone."

Th two women kept talking about the time they met and Sansa seemed to brighten up a bit, much to Jon's pleasure. He let them reminisce the good old times, when there was no war and summer was at his highest. 

He remembered Lady Stormfeld from their childhood, though he doubted she remembered him. He was only a bastard, then, and was told to hug the walls whenever a noble family came to Winterfell. It didn't stop him from noticing her. "The Wild Fox," Robb had call her, as she spent most of her time outside the walls, befriending more animals than people. She had been brave enough to face a fox, as big as her, which had manage to climb up the fences of the hen house, and successfully chased it before the farmer could kill it. 

"You don't speak much, Jon Snow," (Y/N) said after a while. 

"There is not much to say."

"You're still as quiet as the boy you were. I thought you were shy, then."

He turned to her, a slight smile on his lips. "You remember..."

"Of course I do. Even though I wasn't sure it was you until now."

The rest of the day was not as peaceful as the morning they had. When it was time to meet Ramsay, Jon tried to convince Sansa to stay behind, that she didn't need to see him ever again, with little success. His eyes met (Y/N)'s and he silently pleaded her to accompany them. She nodded and he sighed. He didn't like them being anywhere near to Ramsay, but he could understand them.

—

The parlay didn't go well, but it was nothing he didn't expect. Sansa, however, had shown nothing to the bastard but she had rode back earlier, with Lady Stormfeld on her heels. 

When he arrived at the camp, he went straight to his sister's tent. Before he could open the cloth panel, (Y/N) got out, nearly bumping into him. He placed a hand on her shoulder to help her stay in balance. 

"Is she okay?" he whispered, his gaze on the grey fabric between them and Sansa. 

"As much as she can. She said she wants to be alone."

"Are you okay?" he asked, shifting his attention to her. 

She didn't answer, but her eyes watered. He had noticed how she refrained from crying in front of others. One glance around confirmed that there were too many people. He brushed her cheek with his thumb before taking it back. Too many people. 

"Come."

She followed quietly as he guided her outside the camp. He stopped at the first trees of the surrounding forest and only then, he turned back to pull her behind one of the biggest tree, hiding them from any curious soldier. 

Her eyes were still wet and she kept them on the ground, but she hadn't cry. He had acted before thinking. Now that they were alone, he had no idea what to do or say. He wanted to touch her, hug her, let her know that she wasn't alone, but it wasn't proper. She still was a Lady and he, after all his ventures, still was a bastard. 

"He killed my family..." 

Her voice was quiet yet he could hear her disgust. She lifted her gaze to met his. 

"I did so many horrible things and... how can he just go with it?"

She had show strength the last couple of days, but she had lived all her life sheltered by a loving family. It just occurred to him that not everyone knew how rotten this world was. 

"I know..." was the only thing he managed to say. 

She rested her forehead on his shoulder and he put his arms around her her waist. He wished he could lesser her pain, but all he could do now was to stay with her, silently rubbing her shoulders while she sobbed. 

"Is it bad that I wish him dead?"

"No. And I promise we'll get him."

He brushed her hair with his gloved hand, fighting the urging desire to kiss it, then her forehead, then anywhere she would want to, to take her mind out of this dark corner called hatred and grief. She curled in his embrace, her hands resting on his chest as she slowly began to steady her breath. 

She backed a little, just enough for them to share a look, noses almost touching. 

"I'll come with you tomorrow."

No, what was he wished to say. But there was so much fire in her eyes that he didn't dare to raise any objection. 

"Are you sure?" He asked nonetheless. 

"That's the least I can do for them."

He pressed his lips together, searching for a way to change her mind. But before he could, the camp had became loud enough to not be ignored. 

"We should go back."


	8. The Night Before

Around the strategy table, we assessed the troops we had gathered. We were still not enough to match the Bolton army, but the Glover forces were a welcome addition. We had a plan too, though Sansa warned us to beware of whatever Ramsay could prepare. Once everything was settled, Jon dismissed us. 

"Lady Stormfeld," he called before I could exit his tent. 

Davos and him exchanged a nod and the older man gave me a smile before leaving us alone. Jon placed his hands on the table, eyes on the tactical map, an exhausted look on his face. 

"I have a favor to ask..."

I frowned while going toward him. "What can I do?"

"You said your dogs were the best in Westeros..."

"Do you doubt them?"

"No." He shook his head before locking eyes with mine. "On the contrary."

He closed the distance between us and placed his hand on top of mine. My cheeks went of fire and my heart beat faster than I wanted to, but I kept my composure, trying not to show him how this simple gesture made me feel. He had already see me cry, I didn't want to be another burden to him. We had other horses to tame than a young girl feelings, after all. 

"First, I hadn't properly thank you. Without you, we wouldn't have the Glovers."

I smiled a little. "Uncle Robett is a jerk, but he loved my mother."

"And you did a great job reminding him."

"Thank you..."

Our hands were still connected and he gently squeezed mine. I did my best to focus and brought the conversation back to what started it. 

"What do you want me to do?" 

He took a few seconds to think, brows furrowed, as he looked at me. "I... I'd like you to protect Sansa, tomorrow. Stay here, with your dogs, and guard her."

"Weren't we supposed to help you on the battlefield? Lady Brienne is a capable woman, much more than I am."

"Yes, she is. But she'll need help in case anything happens."

I weighted the argument. It was already settled that a few men would stay with Sansa and Lyanna. This didn't seem like they would need me or my dogs. Not more than on the actual battlefield. Jon sighed quietly and pressed his lips together. He released my hand, but I quickly took it back before he could turn away. 

"Why don't you want me with you?"

"It's not that... I just..."

"Then what is it?" 

He shifted his height from one foot to another, his eyes adverting me. He took a deep breath before sighing. 

"I don't want you to risk your life..."

"Did you tell this to the thousands people who will fight for you tomorrow? We are at war! We are bound to risk our lives!"

"But these people can fight!" 

He took a few steps back, his hand running though his hair. I crossed my arm across my chest. As hurt as my pride was, he was right. Alone, I wouldn't stand a chance against anyone, but I wasn't as weak as he thought. I was willing to give everything to get my revenge and I had six trained dogs to help me on that path.

"I may not have a sword or a bow, but this doesn't mean I cannot fight."

He sighed again, looking up to the sky before turning towards me. "I know. I'm sorry. This isn't what I meant." 

"So what do you mean? Because it seems clear to me."

With that, he closed once again the distance between us in quick steps and cupped my face. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against mine. 

"I don't want you to fight, because I couldn't bear it if something happens to you because of me."

I placed one of my hand on top of his. "I chose to follow you. If anything happens, it would be solely on me."

"It wouldn't make it more bearable..."

"But it is my choice." I backed a little, just enough to look at him in the eyes, and guided his hands off my cheeks.

"Why do Northerners women have to be so stubborns?"

"Because Northerners men are even more stubborns."

In the heat of the argument, I didn't react to our proximity but now, I could feel our fingers intertwined, his breath against my skin. I couldn't help but gaze at his features. Broad shoulders, squared jaws, and yet again, those scars... I freed one of my hand to brush the one on his left temple. 

"You worry about me, but you're the one who will be on the front line..."  

"I've seen worse fights than this one."

He didn't have to name them to send shivers down my spine. I had thought monsters were inventions to get children attention. Then Ramsay came and he became in my eyes the embodiment of all evil. But now, I had learned that actual monsters existed and were marching south. It was a lot for the sheltered girl I was. But Jon had fought men and monsters, survived both, and kept fighting for what he believed was good. With such a man in front of me, I couldn't afford to run away. 

It occurred to me, with a bit of surprise, than I wasn't afraid for my life, but for his. I brushed the top of his hand with my thumb as I leaned to whisper in his ear. 

"Promise me you'll come back alive..."

"I can ask you the same."

We exchanged a look, our faces coming closer and closer while my heart raced in my chest. 

As I started to close my eyes, a soldier clearing his throat outside the tent broke the moment. We stood silently, eyes locked into the other's, with the slight hope that he would go away. 

"Lady Stormfeld. Jarden is looking for you."

I sighed, reluctantly turning away from Jon. "I should go..."

But before I could break the embrace, he pulled me against him and pressed his lips on my forehead. 

"Come back to me."

His whisper was so quiet that I thought I imagined it. Yet when we parted and exchanged a last smile, I knew I didn't.


	9. Fear

When I was young, my father told me tales of battlefields, with knights in shining armors fighting with might and honor. I imagined smiling soldiers, singing horns and pretty ladies throwing flowers to wish them good luck. There was no smile that day, no horns and the pretty ladies gave orders instead of flowers. The tired look of the soldiers seemed even gloomier with the dark sky and mud and welts stained boots and breastplates. 

As I walked towards the makeshift stables, I felt my hands shaking, my guts twisted like when I ran in the forest, flying from the Boltons, not so long ago. From somewhere close, I heard someone give their breakfast back to the earth, and the sound and smell knotted my stomach even more. I tried not to make eye contact with anyone, as my fear was probably displayed in full colors on my face. Thankfully, the stables weren't far from my tent. The strong smell of horses and hay instantly helped me put my mind on other things. A groom offered me to prepare my horse, but I shocked my head. 

One thing at a time, I kept repeating myself. So I focused on finding my mare and my dogs. One thing at a time. I brushed the horse's brown coat with care, untangling each knot I found. One thing at a time. I petted Cobweb while attaching him to a wooden post. One thing at a time. The saddle seemed heavier than before, but I managed to put it on place and buckle it on my own. One... I jumped when Jon took the reins I just settled. The dogs had not make a sound when he arrived, but all of them were wagging their tails. 

"I didn't notice you..."

He sighed, his shoulders bent to the lowest point I ever saw them. "Keep your focus. You need to notice everything out there."

I nodded and quickly turned towards the saddle where I placed my dagger. He took it back and gave it to me again. 

"Always keep a dagger with you, in case you lose your horse... or dogs."

"I know," I whispered, brows furrowed. "I know all of this..."

Yet I couldn't do it properly. My shaking hands struggled to put the dagger in my boot and Jon gently took my wrists when I finally managed to keep it on place. 

"Nobody will blame you if you stay..."

I looked at Maurl at my feet, then at the saddle, at anything to advert his gaze. I did my best not to think about how I couldn't fight, after our small talk, the last night. I had kept waking up, heart racing and tears on my cheeks, from one nightmare to another. Now, an hour before our departure, I couldn't think straight and kept doing small mistakes that could easily cost me my life, out there. They were right, Elayne and him, and I was stupid to think otherwise. I couldn't back down now, however. How could I be able to face him if I did. 

"I said I would come..." I finally said, focusing on the mare. 

Jon brought a hand to my cheek and forced me to look at him. "Only fools don't change their mind."

"But... You..." 

Words stumbled on my mouth and before I knew it, I was clinging to his sleeve. He pulled me closer, allowing my face to rest on the crook of his neck. 

"I'll feel better if you stay here, with Sansa and Lyanna."

"So I'm either a fool or a coward..."

"No. You're Lady Stormfeld of Hearthgrove. You gave us the Glovers. You helped us with the strategy. And you'll protect Ned Stark's daughter. Neither of this seems foolish or cowardly to me."

I couldn't help but smile a little. My arms found their way to his neck, and I pulled him even closer. I may not go to the battlefield today, but fear had not let me alone. How could it when he would risk his life... I stopped at the thought. I stepped back a little to have a good look at him, but lost myself in these dark eyes of his. His brooded a lot, brows always furrowed, but he had this reassuring area around him, where everything seemed possible. Yet today, the calming effect he had on me was tainted with shame and apprehension.

"Who will watch your back, then?"

Behind Jon, Tormund had a small laugh. I quickly backed off, putting a proper distance between the commander and me. I had no idea of how long he was here but I preferred not knowing.

"Don't you worry, girl," he said with his unmistakable rough voice. "I won't let him die today. I still owe him my life."

"Please bring him back in one piece," I asked the red-haired giant with a small smile. 

"Aye" was his response, and he quickly disappeared with a giant axe across his shoulders. 

With the Wildling gone, silence fell between us. I knew he would be gone too quickly but I stubbornly dismissed the thought, afraid to dwell on the implications of his departure, and of my stay. I turned away, cheeks bright red. I didn't deserve his attention. 

"You should go. Your men will wait their commander."

He didn't budge, and I felt his hesitation before I even looked at him. When I finally faced him, I didn't dare lift my eyes to met his so I focused on lower face. His lips were pressed against one another and for a moment, I hoped he came to me, and pressed these lips against mine, despite my guilt, despite everything. But he didn't. He straightened his doublet and cleared his throat. 

"Lady Stormfeld, you and your men will be in charge of protecting the camp, with Lady Mormont's forces."

His voice was loud enough for people around to ear, but we got only some glances before they all gone back to their businesses. I bowed my head and took a deep breath to keep me from running to him, urging him to be careful. Making sure no one was looking, I still grabbed his hand and squeezed it. 

"Come back to me," I whispered. 

He lifted my hand to his face and pressed his lips on top of it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! It was a long one to write. Don’t worry, Reader will have a lot more moments to shine in the next chapter!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed and stay tuned for more fight and more fluff!


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